


Blue boy feeling blue (needs to have kisses to chase the blues away)

by KryptoRed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Couffaine Family, Endgame Lukanette, F/M, I don't know I'm just basing it off from that one time I felt really awful but without getting wet, Inspired by Art, Lukanette, Medical Inaccuracies, Rose pops by to join a group hug, Sick!Luka, Sick!Luka Couffaine, everyone taking care of our blue boy Luka and giving him the love and care he absolutely deserves, lukanette endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26674657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryptoRed/pseuds/KryptoRed
Summary: When Luka gets soaked for some unknown reason and decides to walk back home without drying himself off, he wakes up not so slightly regretting his choices from yesterday. Thankfully, he has his family to take care of him.
Relationships: Anarka Couffaine & Juleka Couffaine & Luka Couffaine, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Blue boy feeling blue (needs to have kisses to chase the blues away)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incredibleflan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incredibleflan/gifts).



> I was planning on editing the second chapter for the fic I wrote for this year's Lukanette Exchange, but then I saw art that made me go, "priorities? Don't know that." 
> 
> Y'all are lucky I wrote something in a day without delay. Anyway, this is a [LINK](https://sidsinning.tumblr.com/post/630335583818022912/my-lovelies) to the art that inspired this fic. I caught feelings from it.

He wakes up with his head feeling heavy; as if someone had stuffed his skull with cotton to replace his brain. He tries to move, but as soon as he does, he sees the world tilt and turn and swivel all around – 

“Maaaa! Ju-” a cough interrupts his shout, before continuing his call with a weaker and strained voice, “J-juleka?”

It takes about 5 seconds for him to hear the thundering footsteps of his family getting closer, and a few more before their concerned faces appear.

“We heard you yelling like a scared pup; what’s wrong?” Anarka approaches her son, who’s in–between struggling to sit up and trying not to throw up, and combs through the mess called his hair. “You alright, son? You’re looking a bit *peely wally right now.”

“He’s kind of burning up, Ma.” Juleka says, her hand resting on her brother’s forehead. Luka is a little surprised to not have noticed her do that, but then again, he’s feeling too out of it to even know what’s happening to him.

“Wha…I feel awful. W-why…?”

“Tsk, you were out in the *baltic weather while drenched like a drowning cat for too long, is why and what happened!” Anarka tightens her grip on Luka’s clump of black and blue hair, but not enough to have him flinch and only to serve as a warning. 

“I should’ve known that big brothers could be this stupid, especially when around – “Luka swipes at her with his weak arm, interrupting Juleka with her lecture. She effortlessly avoids getting hit, even if she knows her brother doesn’t have enough strength to make his point, and laughs at him.

“That’s what you get, really. Sometimes I hate when my stubbornness shines through one or the both of you. You should’ve stayed at the Dupain-Chengs for a while to dry and warm up like you were asked to, instead of walking back home like soaked to the bone.”

“Maaaaa…”

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Luka! You should see yourself right now. Even your girl was adamant on giving you a sweater she made for you, or so your sister heard. I didn’t peg you for the daft type.”

“S’was ‘posed t’be… her surprise.” Unable to stay sitting up, Luka gives in to gravity and falls back into bed,. The drop has him feeling queasier than when he woke up. “She shu’nt have.”

“Listen to yourself.” His mother shakes her head in disappointment, unbelieving at how her son is acting. And to think he was the responsible one out of the three of them. Just as her mouth opens to lecture him some more, she sees her daughter with her phone out. “Juleka, what’re you doing?”

“I’m recording him; this doesn’t happen much. I’m taking as much blackmail material as possible.”

“Your brother is sick. Your own blood.”

“Just let me have this, Ma. Besides, he’s going to need proof of what happens when he starts acting reckless.”

“Fine, but could you at least fetch him a glass of water and some medicine? Your brother’s throat is probably as dry as a desert.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As Juleka goes to find what’s needed, Anarka turns back to her son, who’s miserably trying to will away his sickness by tightly closing his eyes and clenching his fists against his blanket. She reaches out to his hands one by one and gently pries his fingers off the fabric, and massages the lines on his forehead away.

“There, there. You’ll get through this; I know you will.” She turns back to Juleka, back from the kitchen, and takes the glass of water medicine from her. “You’re a Couffaine, after all. Now drink this and go back to sleep. I’ll make some soup for you to eat when you wake up.” 

“Too sick… eat.” Luka manages to say after washing the pill down his throat. He’s never felt so thirsty until now, evident from how he finishes the entire glass. “Don’ wanna.”

“You’ll be saying otherwise when you wake up and your stomach’s trying to imitate a whale mating call, dummy.” 

Oh, whatever happened to his sweet little sister? Those are his last thoughts before he succumbs to the heaviness of his lids.

  


He wakes up feeling warm, and not the comfortable kind of warm. The moment Luka’s eyes blink awake, he tries not to move his head too much in fear of witnessing the world go round and round and round and – 

“Oh, you’re awake.” 

He turns his head slowly towards the doorway and sees his sister leaning on the side.

“How’re you feeling?” The slight scrunch of her brows lets him know just how worried she is. 

“Uh…” he starts to get up, thankful that he doesn’t feel like his whole body is spinning out of control, and puts a hand against his stomach. Soon enough, he feels the rumble before he hears it. “M’hungry.”

He chooses to ignore the smirk Juleka gives him. 

“Why don’t you take a shower? Make sure you wear something dry and warm right after, okay? I’ll heat up the soup up for you while you’re at it.” 

After Juleka leaves, Luka sluggishly gets up from bed, skipping to make his bed while silently promising to do it later (when he’s all better). As he struggles to walk forward, he feels his shirt sticking to his skin. The disgusting feeling of his sweat acting as glue between his shirt and skin has him walking a little faster to the washroom, picking up a recently washed towel from the cabinet.

  


It takes him about 20 minutes to shower, and about 5 minutes and counting trying to find something to wear. So far, all he’s succeeded in is choosing some light blue pyjama bottoms. The sight of him standing shirtless with his towel resting on his shoulder, his back facing the doorway, is how Juleka finds him.

“What’re you doing standing around shirtless for? Are you seriously trying to make yourself even sicker?”

She approaches him to whack him on the shoulder, albeit softer than she normally would as an act of mercy.

“M’trying to find something warm to wear, but I can’t choose.”

“You could wear the sweater I made for you, if you want.”

The sound of Marinette’s voice jolts Luka awake, turning around too quick for his liking. Pushing back the nausea from his sudden movement, he takes in the sight of the girl standing outside his room, a small bag on hand.

“Oh yeah, I was gonna tell you that Marinette came by while you were in the shower.” Said girl approaches them as she rummages inside the bag she carries. “She also brought you some noodles and stuff.”

“Mhm. I put the noodles in the chicken soup your mom made. Better put this on before you get cold.” She hands him something thick and blue, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s the same sweater she intended to surprise him with. The same sweater she offered him yesterday, before he woke up feeling like death warmed over him.

“I’m not taking any arguments right now so, wear this sweater and get your stubborn Couffaine ass into the kitchen.”

“I’ll change the bedding; you guys go ahead when you’re done.” Juleka offers, her hands already busy with throwing out Luka’s blanket onto the laundry basket. “With how much sweating you did, your bed’s probably gone *scabby and *howlin.”

Muttering his arguments to the two girls, Luka wears his sweater and attempts to tame his hair. He stops when Marinette takes hold of his wrists and pulls him out the room.

“Don’t bother with your hair, I can fix it for you while you’re eating.” She looks back at the boy she’s dragging to the kitchen. “Did you drink some water since you woke up?”

“Yeah. After shower.” 

“Mm…that’s good.”

Marinette pushes him down the seat by the counter and sets the bowl of soup in front of him. 

“Here you go.” She takes the glass of water that Anarka passes to her. “I’m just going to fetch the bag from your room. Don’t do anything rash; your mom has her eyes on you right now.”

“You’re looking a lot better now, Luke. Did you have a good sleep?”

“Uhuh…” He shoves a spoonful of the broth to his mouth, thankful that it’s not too hot that it burns him, and he hums in satisfaction as it goes down his throat. “Feel lil’ better.”

“That’s good.”

Their conversation is put to a halt when Marinette returns with her bag, her arm reaching inside of it.

“I brought you a care package, even though you brought this onto yourself.”

Luka grunts in retaliation, but finds it useless him and continues to enjoy his soup. His eyes follow Marinette’s arms whenever she puts something on the counter beside him.

“Here are some chicken and rice soup, and it’s got green chiles and ginger. I wasn’t sure if your mom – ”

“For the hundredth time; call me Anarka, dear.”

“ – Anarka, made you some soup and what kind so, I brought it into a single serving container. If any of you want some, I can always come by and bring you some more. You all know how my Maman is. Also, I have tea, some socks, a scarf, crackers, bananas, and I even made some applesauce!”

She excitedly brings the small jar of applesauce by her cheeks, and it suddenly hits Luka how worried he must’ve made the people precious to him. As he lets this sink in, his brows pinch themselves together and the skin on forehead wrinkles. He slowly drops the spoon down the bowl, shoulders dropping, and the corners of his mouth turned down. 

“It’s a good thing it’s the weekend,” Marinette combs her fingers through his unruly hair, “or I wouldn’t have enough time to – oh, no! What’s wrong?”

Luka’s eyes look up to Marinette, who’s suddenly moved closer to him and looks him in the eyes.

“What’s wrong, Luka?” His mother asks, leaning a little closer from her seat in front of him, “Are you feeling something else? Is it coming back?”

“No, no. I-It’s nothing, I just… I’m sorry for worrying all of you.” He makes a face, and it’s not the one that they like to see at all. “I’m sorry for not listening and acting like a *roaster.”

Sitting by the counter, with his large, blue sweater hanging off of his shoulders lopsidedly, his hair still in need of more grooming, and pale. Luka has never felt and looked so small until now.

Unable to stand the sight of him feeling so vulnerable, Marinette cups his cheek kisses him soundly on the cheek. This takes him by surprise, as he doesn’t move nor say anything for a short while. Marinette can only giggle at the sight of an unresponsive Luka, while Anarka chuckles at what has transpired.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it, Luka. We’re just glad that you’re okay now. But promise me next time that you don’t go out in the chilly streets of Paris, with nothing but a light jacket on to keep you warm, and soaking wet.”

“Best listen to your girl, Luka. She knows what she’s doing; a definite keeper.”

He smiles at their words and blushes hard. He doesn’t bother hiding the flush on his face and continues eating his soup, and Juleka finally comes out of their bedroom and calls out to him.

“Have you finally knocked some sense into him, Marinette?”

“Yeah, I think I have.”

“Think he’s contagious, Ma?”

“He’s feeling better now so, I don’t think so.”

“Great, that means I can do – ” Juleka wraps her arms around her brother from behind, careful to not jostle him so much and spill the soup, “ – this!”

Luka doesn’t say anything, still, but pats at his sister’s arms as he enjoys his soup. 

“Ooh! I wanna join in, too!” Marinette says, before hugging him from the side while trying to make sure he can still move his arms.

“Don’t forget about the captain of this boat!” He doesn’t feel his mother touch him, but knows that she’s hugging Marinette and Juleka from the sudden gain of weight on his back and side. 

“Oh! Are we doing a group hug? Let me join, too!” he recognizes the voice as Rose’s, which is coming from the door, and his smile stretches wider even with the spoon stuck in his mouth.

This is what home feels like, and he loves it.

**Author's Note:**

> Prolly should've done this with the 'Magmuni-muni' fic, too, yet here we are. Anyway, here are some Scottish slang that I used, marked by asterisks.
> 
> Peely Wally - looking unwell, pale.  
> Baltic - freezing cold.  
> Scabby - dirty.  
> Howlin - smelly.  
> Roaster - idiot.
> 
> I prolly used some, if not, all of them wrong. I bet native Scottish speakers are laughing at me right now, and I deserve it.


End file.
